


Beautiful, Dirty, Rich

by trippydooda



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Spin the bottle is evil, Trippy writes sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:11:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8151827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trippydooda/pseuds/trippydooda
Summary: A simple game lands Niall lusting after Harry in the worst way possible.





	

Niall’s pretty sure he’s drunk.

Every time he tries to walk the world tilts with him and something pierces his temples but the good thing is that he’s holding a margarita. Liam had made fun of him, something about it being a ladies’ drink, but it gets him drunk faster than beer so who’s laughing now? (Well, Niall is but that’s because he can’t stop.)

He’s not sure what number he’s on but judging by the number of little paper umbrellas laying around it’s probably five. The boys have all sat down in a strange circle that reminds Niall of a summoning ritual, and Louis is playing with an empty bottle. Harry is sitting lazily, his arm resting on his propped up knee, whisky in his hand. Niall thinks it’s a sin to drink whisky to get drunk, but he also pretends that he doesn’t watch the way Harry’s lips curl around the edge of the glass as he sips. Liam is rolling over the ground making some sort of dying animal noise and Niall’s never been happier.

“We should play a game,” Louis drawls out and perhaps they’re all drunk by now.

Liam ceases his noises, “What, like football?”

Louis laughs, “I don’t have that kind of coordination right now, mate.”

Niall’s watching Liam stick his tongue out like a little girl when Harry’s voice comes through. “What about spin the bottle?” Niall laughs into his margarita. Harry looks offended. “What? It passes the time well enough.”

Liam’s composed himself enough to sit up. “I don’t even have a clue how to play that.”

“I… Might know how to play,” Louis offers and even goes to put the empty bottle in the middle of the circle of them. Niall’s waiting for the Latin chants to start. “I have sisters,” Louis defends himself as if they were all judging him. (Niall was.)

“Enlighten us, Tommo,” Harry says and Niall’s pretty sure his voice is as smooth as the whisky he’s got in his slender fingers. He chugs more of his drink to stop himself from thinking about it more.

“I mean you basically turn the bottle and whoever it lands on has to do a dare.”

“Who decides the dare?” Niall asks because hey, if they’re doing this he doesn’t want to look like a fool.

Louis laughs. “Whoever spins the bottle in the first place.”

“I feel like this is a set up,” Liam chimes in. “I’m not streaking through the streets, I’mma put that rule down right now.” He slaps his hand down on the floor for emphasis. 

When Niall watches Harry shrug he chugs more. Don’t think about it, he tells himself. “I’m game.”

“Me too,” Louis agrees, and Liam nods while he’s draining his beer. All that left was…

“I… I could do it,” Niall barely manages out. 

The way Louis claps his hands and shakes his shoulders only reminds Niall of a girl at her sweet sixteen, but when his hand goes to the glass bottle Niall suddenly thinks he wants another margarita. It’s really sort of awful how Louis is tapping his fingers on it, eyeing the boys and waggling his eyebrows. Niall already feels himself being too sober for this.

“Since I knew how to play it first I get first spin,” Louis says triumphantly. Niall definitely doesn’t watch the way Harry’s lips curl into a smile.

When the bottle starts spinning Niall thinks this would be much more effective on a slick floor and not so much carpet. It’s not physically sustainable. Still he watches as it slows down its turns and Niall’s cursing inertia. He’s never been a big fan of these despite being so confident of himself. Sure he doesn’t care making a fool of himself but that’s on his own terms. When someone else has the reins he starts to panic a little.

There was one time when he was in primary school that everyone was playing truth or dare. Niall remembers this distinctly because his crush was wearing this really cool Superman shirt. He might have only been ten, but none of the girls never really seemed likable to him. He had a few friends, but whenever his boy friends spoke of girls and how Sally’s curls complimented her eyes Niall just didn’t get it. And of course when he was picked during that awful game someone gave him truth. They asked who he liked. Now Niall wasn’t about to disobey the laws of truth or dare but there was also no way he could say it was Kyle from Mrs. Franks’ class. It would be social suicide. Instead he opted for saying no one but he knew, he _knew_ his eyes still flashed to Kyle and never found it a coincidence that Kyle stopped showing up to his lunch table.

Thankfully for Niall’s sanity it lands on Liam this time. For some reason Liam does a little dance and Niall thinks it’s weird until he remembers how many drinks they’ve all had. 

“Okay, give it to me,” he taunts Louis and there he is rubbing his hands together like a goddamn 60s movie villain. 

Louis hums under his breath. “How about you chug that beer next to you in less than five minutes.” Everyone looks to the said beer and Niall laughs uproariously when he sees it hasn’t even been opened.

Liam gives Louis little finger guns. “You’re on.”

And so now Niall is watching one of his best mates continuously drink down what’s got to be a not very satisfying beer and in that moment he forgets about Kyle. Harry’s making some stupid comments in the back and Louis is cheering him on so that Niall doesn’t even realise it’s only been three minutes and the beer is done.

“Wow,” Harry says and somehow it’s sexy. How is that sexy? “You had me fooled Liam. I thought you were for sure going to barf.”

Liam belches. “Still a possibility.” 

“Right, so, go ahead and spin the bottle, mate,” Louis says and he looks like some awful dance teacher watching her little students trip all over each other as Cinderella’s “Once Upon a Dream” plays. 

Niall’s heart starts to race once again as the bottle goes and goes. He feels his palms getting clammy and his feet start bouncing. It’s so stupid to be afraid of a dumb game and it’s even dumber how relieved he is when it lands on Harry. Of course Harry just cooly smiles and takes another sip of whisky and Niall actually does let himself watch how Harry’s Adam’s apple bounces as he swallows it.

“Oh,” Liam draws out like a coo. “What shall we have the Haz do?”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t really feel like smelling anyone’s duffle bag.” Niall nods. It’s a very valid point.

While Liam hums under his breath Niall is getting ready to get up and have himself a wee. He’s almost upright before he trips over his own feet and clambering down again when Liam says, “Kiss Niall.”

“Well that’s easy,” Harry chimes and motions towards Niall when Liam stops him with a waggling finger. 

“No, you gotta really kiss him. Like… For fifteen seconds.” Niall wants to punch the smirk right off of him. Either that or run as fast as he can in the opposite direction. 

When Niall watches Harry’s face drop he _really_ wants to buy a one-way plane ticket but like with truth or dare, he cannot disobey the laws of spin the bottle. He could, however, blame Louis for all his life’s misfortunes.

“Niall?” Louis asks and Niall realises it’s been quiet for a while and that they’re all staring at him. Shit.

“I… I mean what’s the big deal, right?” He knows he’s somehow said it too fast and that his smile is full of shit but the others seem to buy it. He tries to collect himself and sit back down and wills himself to look at Harry and yeah. He really needs that margarita right now.

“Fifteen seconds?” Harry asks, eyes locked onto Niall’s like he’s some form of prey. When he hears Liam give the go and watches Harry crawl across the floor he’s pretty sure he’s being hunted. He can’t help but notice the way Harry’s shoulder blades move as he crawls, like he could cut his cheek on them. His feet are bouncing again and wow is he sweating but he can’t help it. His heart is about to set off some very bad neurons in his head and he keeps swallowing hard even though there’s no spit to go down.

Harry settles in front of him, legs crossed Indian style. Niall watches from his peripherals Harry’s hand come up to cup his cheek and since when was Niall living in an 80s rom-com? Another hand cups Niall’s other cheek and he looks at this new touch rather than Harry’s face turning and leaning in. Niall’s forgotten how to kiss for sure.

“Are you okay?” Harry whispers onto Niall’s lips and he shivers. It’s so soft, so caring and Niall knows it’s not meant for him. Harry’s just putting on a show. Still, Niall nods. He’s lying, but he nods all the same. “Good. Now look at me, they want it real.” Another shiver runs down Niall’s spine and when he looks at Harry he’s pretty sure he’s flatlined. Harry’s hair had framed his face in such a way that Niall can’t even see Louis or Liam. That brilliant green is staring right at him, and his lips are parted only slightly but Niall can still feel the breaths on his skin. When Niall goes to open his mouth to somehow make this less awkward Harry takes that as an invitation and closes the distance.

At first Niall can’t close his eyes. Harry certainly has and has even pushed his weight against Niall more. For fuck’s sake he’s even running his fingers through what little hair Niall has. Niall has no idea what to do. No idea how to react. He’s way too drunk for this or quite possibly not enough he’s not sure but it’s hard to focus when Harry fucking Styles’ lips are pressed to yours, and especially with how he just opens them and closes again like he’s trying to suck the life out of you.

Finally Niall lets his eyes close and tries to make himself kiss back. He responds by opening his mouth with Harry’s and follows the lead when a tongue slides in and curls around Niall’s. It’s gone as soon as it came and shit now he’s biting softly on Niall’s lower lip and Niall finds his hands raising, going instinctually for Harry’s back, to grab at it hard and rough, to pull Harry so close he can feel his heartbeat but just as he presses back, kisses harder, Harry pulls away. Niall doesn’t open his eyes, he falls forward after Harry and even lets out a whimper when the heat is gone. It isn’t until he hears a laugh that he remembers where he is and fuck.

When he opens his eyes Harry is smirking so hard Niall thinks his lips are gunna be stuck that way. Louis is just kind of looking at him with his eyes wide and Liam won’t fucking shut up. He thinks Liam is trying to form words but all Niall can focus on is the way Harry gracefully goes back to his seat, casually takes another drink, and flicks that damned bottle so calmly like he just didn’t molest someone.

While it’s still spinning Niall forces himself to stand. When everyone looks at him Niall just regards them indifferently. “I have to take a shit,” he says, and probably running away wasn’t the best of things to do.

— — — —

The next morning Niall finds himself tangled in his sheets so much that he can’t even get out of them first. His head hurts like a bitch and it’s probably from puking most of the night. He can still taste it on his tongue, and Harry too. The thought makes him want to hurl again and he even lets out a long groan. He doesn’t want to get up. He doesn’t want to face the day smelling like puke. Maybe he can insist that he’s stuck, which is partially true, but if he really wanted to he could get up. The need for caffeine surpasses his utter embarrassment.

He’s begun making coffee in the little pseudo kitchen in their hotel suite and starts to hum. He retrieves his guitar and starts playing some little jam and is finally starting to feel like himself again when he sees a shadow move in the corner of his eye. Still bobbing his head to a tune he looks up and there it is: Niall’s source of nightmares.

“Boo,” Harry says from about five inches away and if Niall had any less self control he would have hit Harry by now with his trusty guitar.

“M-Morning,” Niall responds. “Sorry if my breath smells like puke,” he adds and immediately regrets it.

He’s cursing himself silently but Harry doesn’t move. “It smells more like margaritas,” Harry offers and leans in farther to, of all things, take a deeper whiff. Niall stands up so fast he almost knocks Harry over.

“Well, I think my coffee is done,” he tries to say as happy as he can and clambers away, guitar still in hand. When he’s got to pouring said coffee his finds his hands trembling and spills some onto his bare foot. He curses at it and wipes his face and there Harry is again right next to him. He feels like dumping the whole pot on himself. 

“About last night,” Harry starts and no. No. No no no. Niall can’t deal with this crap this early. He was trying to have a peaceful day. He’s still tired. He hasn’t even had any caffeine. 

“Great time!” Niall almost yells, reaching too hard for the milk.

“I just wanted to say…” When Niall has poured about probably a cup of sugar in his coffee he just surrenders to the fact that this is not going to be a good day. “I think we were all pretty drunk and, well—“ 

“What’s up loverboys,” Liam coos. He’s doing some sort of jazz dance as he waltzes in and Niall is thinking there is still some bile left in his stomach to hurl up.

Before Liam can assault them any more Louis walks in barking at why no one has started the kettle and the banter that ensues makes Niall feel better. He drinks his shitty coffee and Liam makes fun of how Louis likes his tea and Harry goes to fry an egg. It’s all normal and all comforting and Niall actually feels good as they go to practice some more songs.

“We should do that thing we did last night again,” Liam suggests as they walk through the halls of the hotel. Niall was happily drinking his water until he chokes on it.

“Absolutely not,” he says too quickly and too sternly, enough for Liam to look offended. “I… I just got way too hungover.” He motions to his head and forces a smile.

Louis breathes out. “He’s right, my ‘ead still hurts like a bitch.” 

Harry stays oddly quiet.

“So a night alone then, lads?” Niall suggests. He dares to go drink some more water.

Liam groans and it’s like he’s five years old. “Getting drunk alone is depressing though.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You don’t ‘ave to get drunk every night you know mate.”

Some arguing nonsense ensues and Niall finds it easy to laugh. 

— — — — 

When Niall looks at the time it’s about two fifteen in the morning. Why, of all things, is he hearing loud voices he isn’t sure. He rubs the bridge of his nose under his glasses and think he should probably look into it. In his Minecraft fuzzy jammy bottoms and some old wife beater he trudges out of his room, ready to give a lecture about bedtimes when he sees Liam and Harry playing Dance Dance Revolution. He equal parts hates them for doing it so damn late at night and also for not inviting him.

“What are you blokes doing now?” He asks as he comes across Harry practically flailing as he tries to land prefects in Beyonce’s Crazy In Love. 

Liam sips what Niall hopes is pop and nods to the screen. “Harry’s trying to break my record.” He burps. “Not gunna happen.”

Niall mouths and “ah” and turns to look at the screen himself. Harry is actually doing pretty well all things considered, though he keeps entirely missing one or two. Liam and Niall begin to yell and give pointers as Harry curses at them saying they’re not helping and manages to slap Liam in the face. Niall isn’t sure whether it was on purpose or not, but it didn’t make it any less funny. 

“Let me have a go,” Niall says and pushes Harry. He ignores the spark the runs through his fingers at the touch. 

“As if you can top me,” Harry laughs and goddammit since when did Niall have such a dirty mind?

To much appeal to his ego, Niall does in fact get a better score than Harry. Harry pouts while Niall now Louis has come in just as offended and pissed off as Niall was. Thus begins a DDR dance off and whoever loses has to drink a whole cup of sriracha. 

Liam ends up losing but takes it like a champ. Even with tears brimming in his eyes he valiantly finishes the glass, slamming down on the counter and throwing his arms in the air for a cheer. This is what Niall needs in his life, not some stupid obsession with his band mate and certainly not thinking about that kiss. 

They all end up laying on the couch, squished together like they essentially have been since the lot of them were seventeen. Sixteen for Harry as Louis reminds them all, getting an elbow in the gut for his contribution. Niall has his himself curled up on one end of the couch with Harry of course sitting right next to him, long legs curled up against his chest. Louis and Liam are again arguing about something rightfully stupid, Harry is adding in some points now and again, but Niall is just sleepy. He doesn’t bother looking for a clock, having decided to let himself look at Harry for a while again. It’s as he’s watching the way Harry pushes back his hair every time he laughs that Niall nods off into a deep sleep.

There’s something heavy pressed against him when he wakes up. He blinks into the sunlight and gives up trying to move when whatever is laying on top of him won’t budge. He looks to floor and sees Liam hugging some tattered pillow, blissfully snoring into it like it’s his wife. He sees Louis’ foot but can’t attach it to a body and as he’s counting he’s missing three. He’s missing…

Something mumbles into his neck. Some _one_ mumbles into his neck. His limbs go rigid when he’s found number three. Harry is laying on him, arms wrapped around Niall’s neck like he’s some sort of comfort pillow. The mumbling turns into a small moan and wow okay those are definitely Harry’s lips smooching on Niall’s neck. The sane part of him should wake Harry up, should pretend that he’s not wrapping his arms tighter and should definitely move away from him as quickly as possible. Instead the not-so-sane-fuck-it-all part lets him have this moment. Harry’s voice is rough from being sleepy, and no words are being made but somehow even the grumbles are sexy. Those lips keep pressing small kisses to Niall’s neck between words and Niall hates himself for letting this happen.

For a small while Harry has stopped and the arms once tight around Niall’s neck loosen and damn right Niall’s disappointed. He sighs to himself amongst the various snores emanating in through the room. He should probably move now he thinks and Harry suddenly has Niall almost choking his grip is so tight. Niall thinks he’s having some sort of horrible nightmare, and is actually trying to wake him up when the sluttiest of moans escapes his lips and hips are rutting against Niall’s and fuck.

Harry’s hard.

Harry’s hard and is rutting on top of Niall and now Niall is getting hard and nothing is right in this world. Niall’s biting down on his lip to keep himself for returning the favour, from grabbing Harry’s hips and thrusting against him so hard he won’t even see straight. Instead Niall tries to think of literally _anything_ else. He starts with old nuns. Decaying sheep. Some random hobo wearing clothes he obviously stole. Ebola. Donald Trump. But nothing compares to how hard his dick is and how just incredibly wonderful Harry feels on top of him. He doesn’t care if it’s perverted. He just really doesn’t. He’s been trying to not think of that kiss, of that moment where Niall felt butterflies in his stomach again, and now he can. Maybe Louis and Liam are right there, but they are easily faded out with Harry right on top of him. He thinks about riding Harry’s dick, without any help, just going up and down with Harry gripping the sheets to stay still. Harry would grab what little hair he could just so he could drag Niall down, drag him into a sloppy kiss that was all teeth and desperation. Niall would let him, he would let him choke him over his dick, yes, because Harry wouldn’t be small. Shit, Niall can feel him now and he already knows. He can almost feel can almost touch and almost—

“Niall?”

Niall flashes his eyes open, not even realising they were closed and sees Harry peeking up at him from his shoulder. Shit how long was Harry awake?

“Mornin’,” he says, “Sleep well?” 

“I…” Harry rubs his head and motions to get up and well fuck there goes Niall’s dignity. He doesn’t think Harry knows he himself is hard, and Niall has to really force himself not to touch when Harry is straddling him. Either Harry really doesn’t notice the ever throbbing bulge in Niall’s pajama pants or he’s just being polite but either way he just like that gets off. The absence of that heat makes Niall shiver.

“Wow, these guys do not sleep gracefully,” Harry mumbles as he lightly kicks Liam. 

Niall lets out a rough laugh but can’t seem to find any words. 

— — — — 

It’s stupid, really. It has been at least two weeks since Harry was dared—not even willfully doing it—to kiss Niall and he still uses it as jack-off material. He can’t help but savour the way Harry held his cheeks, pulled his hair, and even how he asked Niall if he was okay. It somehow managed to be so sexy, so controlling, and it’s thinking about that stupid phrase that gets Niall coming every time. He’s laying on his bed now, sheets kicked down to the edge, thinking that maybe if he got Harry drunk enough it’d happen again. He hates that he reasons that’s probably borderline rape and uses his self disgust to take a shower. 

When he walks out into the lobby it’s all about business. All about tour dates this and recording that. He barely stays awake even with a steady flow of caffeine and is extremely grateful when the nonsense stops. Louis, Liam, and Harry are being civil and talking with the crew but Niall has opted to lay his head down on the desk given to him like it’s the softest pillow ever. He’s even starting to fall asleep when someone clears their throat to jostle him back to life. 

“I hate you,” he says to the groan, well aware it could be someone very important and that he could probably get in trouble.

“Awh, don’t say that,” Harry coos at him and just goddammit. God. Damn. It.

“Whaddya want Harry,” Niall moans from where his head is still planted flat on the wooden surface. 

“Can’t I just talk to my best mate without being questioned?” His voice is still affectionate and Niall just really wish he’d shut up.

“No.”

He thinks he’s really offended Harry when there’s a deafening silence but Harry just lets out a laugh. A beautifully composed, artfully executed laugh. Why did Niall do to deserve such a punishment? 

“Well I just thought you looked like you needed to have an excuse to leave this room and, say, take a walk around these tempting halls?” Niall smiles on the desk as Harry goes on, “Besides I don’t care how old we get I still need to run down every hotel hall until I can’t breathe.”

Niall lifts his head both laughing and shaking it, “You’re like a bloody five year old.”

If Harry was five then that would make Niall something close to three by the way he even more enthusiastically flaunts down the halls. He’s skipping, twirling, and also generally falling. Harry’s got a trolly and goes flying past him and really it’s rather ridiculous but Niall’s happy and forgets about the kiss and maybe the hotel staff gets mad at them and they definitely end up in the men’s room to escape.

“You are incredibly stupid,” Niall says between pants but says it with a smile all the same.

Harry is peeking out the door. “I think they’re still looking for us.”

Niall laughs. “Probably. You _did_ kind of break one of the doors.”

Harry shrugs from the doorway. “Little column A little column B.”

A silence falls between them after that, Harry just smiling and Niall fidgeting with his belt loops. He decides it’s probably safe to bet they’ll be in here for a while so he slides down unsatisfyingly to the floor. As his bum makes a small thud upon contact with the probably filthy tiles, Harry takes about two strides to end up in front of Niall. When Niall looks up Harry’s got those hungry eyes again. The same look he gave him when they were about to… 

Dammit Niall was for sure he was over that by now.

“Why are you looking at me like a fresh steak,” Niall says and regrets his poor choice of words. A cringe follows.

“You’re nice to look at it,” Harry says so casually he could be talking about a sweater.

Niall tries to convince himself that’s exactly what it’s like. “That’s rubbish. You’re just high on excitement.” He tries to hide his blushing by rubbing his face and really when did he revert to being thirteen? 

Harry presses his forehead to the wall and continues to eye Niall. “You’re nervous.”

Niall huffs. “I do have my bandmate strangely looming over me, so yeah, that’s a little cause for suspicion.” 

The grin that Harry lets out is nothing less than somewhat terrifying, but with the exposed canine tooth Niall suddenly wonders what that would feel like on his skin. As if Harry knows exactly what he’s thinking he says in the most sultry tone, “Remember the night we played spin the bottle?” 

Niall wishes the hotel would collapse on him right about now. “I was a little to drink to remember much,” he lies, and can already tell Harry sees through it.

He lets out a resounding “mmm” before he takes a step back and Niall can suddenly breathe better. “You did have a lot to drink.” Niall finds it in him to laugh.

“Thanks Captain Obvious,” he says, and dammit Harry is still staring at him like _that_.

“I know you remember it,” Harry says quietly but still somehow full of confidence. “And I know you liked it.”

Niall doesn’t care if the hotel staff yell at him, he doesn’t even care if one of their managers do, he still stands up too fast to leave. He gives Harry a small nod and a fake smile before beelining for the door and he’s barely pushing it open when a fierce grip engulfs him and he is twirled around to face Harry. He struggles slightly to get free, but of course Harry overpowers him.

“Stop trying to get away from me,” Harry says hoarsely but it does naught to calm Niall down. “I know you’ve been avoiding me, and I can always see you staring.”

“You have a find taste in clothes, Harry,” Niall tries to say as calm as possible but it still ends up coming out a little panicked. 

When Niall realises he’s pretty much stuck he goes limp which of course invites Harry to pull him tight to his chest. Niall can feel his breath on his forehead now. “How much did you enjoy it? How many times have you come over the thought?” Niall doesn’t respond, tries to look away because wow this is so much worse than primary school. “I’ve thought about it too,” Harry whispers in Niall’s ear and shit he’s getting hard. 

Without even being able to think Niall’s head is turned and Harry presses his lips to Niall’s and it’s a little more forceful than before. Unlike before Niall just has stopped giving a shit and immediately kisses him back, parting their lips and taking Harry’s tongue in. It might have been a while since Niall has really made out with someone, but Harry is perfect and they’re close enough that he thinks he could be just the worst kisser and Harry wouldn’t care. Harry, by contrast, is a great kisser. A profound kisser. Niall couldn’t even dream up this kind of kissing. 

When Harry’s had enough of Niall’s lips he moves down to his neck, placing first a careful kiss there. When Niall lets out the smallest whimper Harry is more aggressive this time, sucking fully at the skin before he bites down. The pain that it causes Niall is definitely outweighed by how just fucking _good_ it feels. He moans into it, grabs a hold of Harry’s hair and makes a fist. He thinks it hurts Harry judging by the sound he made, but it does little to deter the hickeys definitely blooming there. Harry moves down again, marking Niall in a different spot now, and Niall had no idea hickeys could feel this good. He’s instinctively rutting against Harry now in the most shameful way but when he realises Harry is just as hard it sends all the signals to his dick. Harry wants this too, thought about it just the way he did, and this is actually happening without the stupid influence of a glass bottle. 

With the rudest smack of lips Harry pulls away and his eyes look hungry. His lip is slightly swollen and Niall’s pretty sure his pupils are the only colour of his eye at this moment. Harry’s hands have found their way to Niall’s ass, grabbing at them and squeezing. They don’t say anything, just stare at each other panting slowly, and now Niall makes the move. He crashes their lips together, pushing Harry into the wall, and he just can’t help the way kissing Harry makes him feel. He’s pretty sure he’s kissing wrong, but the way Harry’s moaning makes him think otherwise. It’s powerful the feeling Niall has. The way he’s grinding against Harry, the way Harry is grinding against him is unreal. This is definitely better than spin the bottle. 

— — — — 

Niall can see the other boys looking at his neck, squinting their eyes trying to make sense of it. It’s entirely satisfying and exciting, knowing that Harry put them there. Even right now Niall is looking, looking at Harry as he splays himself on the couch in the bus like he knows Niall is staring. The bastard.

“You lads want to watch a movie?” Louis says, already palming through the pile.

“If it’s another Disney movie I think I’ll have officially become a princess,” Harry says and they all laugh because he pretty much already is.

“What about something scary?” Niall asks, moving closer to the screen.

“Oh!” Liam shoots up from his cozy little beanbag. “What about Arachnophobia?”

“If I wanted to watch a documentary on how to not spiders I’d go to National Geographic,” Louis muses as Liam says, “Asshole.”

Because no one is creative they do end up watching Arachnophobia and it’s pretty hilarious how genuinely scared Liam gets. He tries to defend himself by saying he’s always been afraid of spiders, but no one really buys it. Every time one comes into frame the squeal that erupts from him just makes Niall laugh hard enough they can’t even hear the lines. When the scene comes where the spiders are crawling out of every opening in the house Liam clambers up and runs away saying that that’s “just not fucking fair” and calling bullshit on whoever thought this movie was a good idea.

When the movie ends everyone is sleepy and Liam is already face-planted in his pillow, and if Niall listens closely enough he thinks he’s snoring. Louis has his head resting on the couch, barely able to keep his eyes open. If Niall was going to admit anything, it was that he was pretty fucking tired too. Harry, the little bastard, is practically wide awake humming from where he stands in front of the telly, even doing a little jig to whatever it is he’s singing. Niall finds it utterly too innocent. 

Still, Niall brings himself to stand as he makes his way to his bunk. They’re not the comfiest of beds, and even with his height it’s almost impossible to sit up all the way. He’s taken of his shirt and pants, leaving him only in his boxers when Harry slides up to him. It’s uncanny how easy it is for him to do that. Niall feels exposed. 

“Going to sleep?” Harry asks, nibbling at his bottom lip.

“That is generally what tired people do Haz,” Niall says but makes no move to lay down.

That stupid grin comes back. “You know Louis and Liam are both asleep.”

Niall tries his best to look surprised. “Wow! I had _no_ idea!” The sarcasm is definitely picked up by Harry who is actually pouting now. The pout fades quickly and turns into a devious expression that has Niall worried.

“You look nice like that,” Harry hums. 

“Of course you’d say that.” Niall rolls his eyes and is starting to get cold just standing there.

“I bet,” Harry moves closer, “You’d look even nicer,” Harry’s just centimeters away from Niall, “Under me.” The sound Niall makes is not human.

Harry of course takes this as an invitation and makes his point because wow he’s grabbing at Niall’s cock. Niall won’t admit how good it feels. “You’re awfully straight forward,” Niall says slightly trembling. Harry makes a clicking sound with his tongue.

“I think it’s safe to say how much we want each other,” he says. “I’m tired of waiting.”

“I’m just tired,” Niall blurts but the feeling of Harry’s hand on his cock is very tempting. It’s even more tempting as Harry starts to rub with his thumb. 

“I’ll come out with it straight,” Harry says, his tone becoming only partially serious. He makes sure to lean in right next to Niall’s ear as he whispers, “I want to fuck you.” Niall immediately croaks.

Harry nips at Niall’s earlobe as he continues to palm Niall’s growing erection. Niall hates the effect Harry has on him but doesn’t tell Harry to stop. in fact he muffles his small moan as Harry goes to kiss his neck, hand coming up to the top of Niall’s boxers. He does a little tug, a little proposition, one which Niall responds with by bucking into Harry’s hand. The feeling of Harry’s soft hand on the head of Niall’s cock is unreal; is totally unfair. He tries to stay quiet, tries not to wake Louis and Liam, but somehow the fact that they’re doing this when they’re so close is indecent and should not turn Niall on more.

“Tell me,” Harry says, licking at one of the hickeys. “Tell me that you want me to do this to you.” He emphasises the “this” by stroking at Niall’s cock. How could Niall say anything other than fuck yes?

“You’re… Ridiculous,” Niall says instead, still bucking into Harry’s touch.

Harry goes to kiss Niall now, and it’s way too soft. It’s too tender. Niall doesn’t want to think of Harry as anything else but friction, beautiful friction. He doesn’t want Harry to be gentle, to be caring, even though that’s what a sensible person would want. No, he wants Harry to command him, to give him the bloody best sex of his life, one that will leave Niall comparing every encounter after to it.

“I think that’s a yes,” Harry muses into Niall’s lips before he kneels down. He grabs Niall thighs and kisses at Niall’s happy trail and it really doesn’t click with him what Harry is about to do. 

Niall just stares at Harry as he drags the boxers down, Niall’s cock springing free to the exposed air. Nothing registers until Harry places a kiss at the head and kisses the base before everything registers and Niall’s breath hitches. He dares not to say a word, not anything that could stop Harry from sucking him off. 

And Harry doesn’t.

He brings his mouth around Niall like it’s the best damned popsicle that’s existed. He hums around it, and the vibrating sensation has Niall grabbing roughly at Harry’s hair again. It’s now that what he thought before was a noise of pain was actually Harry moaning and Jesus was there anything that didn’t make Harry hot? His response to such a touch is to completely swallow Niall whole, his nose nuzzling Niall’s pubic hair. It’s incredible, just fucking incredible, and Niall can’t help but pushing into Harry’s mouth, just wanting _more_ and when Harry grabs at Niall’s hips he gets it. Harry pulls back, licks the tip, and goes right back down. His head starts bobbing faster and faster, and the sound of spit forming makes the most indecent slurping sounds. Spit is even dribbling down Harry’s chin and Niall can see it making wet spots on the floor. It’s messy. It’s dirty. And Niall has never felt as good as he does in this moment.

Harry stops though, breaks off of Niall’s dick all together and it has Niall whimpering at the loss of the heat. The fist he had in Harry’s hair loosens as Harry goes to take his jeans off. Niall watches it all too closely, the way Harry gets goosebumps when they’re off, the way his slender hands bring down his boxers just as gracefully. He pulls something from the back pocket of his jeans and Niall makes an undignifying sound when he sees that it’s lube.

“You don’t think I’d be unprepared for this, did you?” Harry says as he lightly pushes Niall onto the bed. 

Niall can’t really find words, and if he did they’d probably be the wrong ones. Instead he just licks his lips and enjoys the look on Harry’s face as he does so. Harry’s dick is raw, untouched, and it tempts Niall with the precome that has started to build. He reaches out to touch, to lick, and the response Harry gives him is just entirely too good.

“Filthy,” Harry says hoarsely, “I didn’t even ask you.”

Niall’s response is a sound hum around Harry’s cock as he moves up and down. He’s not really that experienced with the whole blow job thing but dammit he does his best. He’s momentarily offended when Harry pushes him back, but Harry’s face is bright red and there are pants coming from him so Niall thinks he did a pretty good job.

“I don’t want to come just yet,” Harry explains.

Niall’s curious. “When then? It’s getting a bit late…” He trails off, playing with the bedsheets.

Harry laughs as he pushes Niall flat on the mattress. “After I’ve fucked that asshole of yours.” Shit. He was really good at this. 

It’s easy with Harry, Niall thinks, because he does all the work. Even now he’s watching Harry slather his dick with lube while he eyes Niall just so sexily. When Harry’s fingers are equally as covered he moves to Niall’s hole but he stops him. Harry eyes him questionably. 

“No,” Niall says, “I just want you in me now.” He resists the urge to say “need”.

The smile that blooms on Harry’s lips makes his cock jump. “I knew you liked it rough,” Harry says, and even if it were wrong (which it’s not) Niall would agree no matter what. Harry could say to jump off a bridge onto the freeway right now Niall would do it. In this moment he’d do anything for Harry.

“Roll over,” Harry commands and dear God does Niall obey.

His head is hovering just centimeters above the sheets and he definitely knows his ass is hanging off the bed. The whole position must be crude to look at but yet again that just turns him on more. When he can feel the tip of Harry’s cock at his hole he bites his lip. Even with his own pressed against the bed it all feels so good he’s actually afraid he’ll come too soon.

He feels Harry’s hands grab at his ass cheeks before the first sensation of pressure is on Niall’s hole. He lets out a probably too loud moan. Harry grunts from behind him as he slides farther in and the pain that runs through Niall is actually pretty bad. He doesn’t say this, doesn’t want to ruin the moment, and the pain is overwhelmed at the pleasure when Harry is fully in and Niall can feel his pubic hair on his skin. Harry pulls out, but before Niall can protest he slams back in and dammit it’s better than any thoughts Niall’s jacked off to. Harry continues the pattern as he leans over Niall’s back and presses his face in the indent of Niall’s neck. The sounds he’s making, the pants and groans of pleasure are too much for Niall, it’s all too much. Frankly he’s a little overstimulated but just doesn’t care. He can finally admit he’s been thinking about this even long before Harry and him first kissed and he’s not even ashamed. He probably should be in the given situation with two of his best mates not even six feet away, but he’s not. He’s really just not.

“Too much,” Harry mumbles into Niall’s neck. “You feel so fucking good.” His thrust just keep getting more powerful, more hard, more rough, and Niall is frankly chuffed with himself that he makes Harry feel that way. 

Niall only responds by pushing himself up into Harry, which also relieves his own dick from rubbing against the sheets. When it’s exposed to the air like that it’s too tantalizing and he has to touch it, but hand gets batted away. Harry mumbles something akin to “let me” before he takes one hand off Niall’s ass to wrap around his dick. Harry’s hands are sweaty, but nonetheless the feeling of his big hands stroking Niall while he plunges into his ass is enough for Niall to make a pathetically slutty noise before he comes all over Harry’s fist. The fact that it does nothing to stop Harry from stroking or thrusting is enough to make Niall want to come again.

Apparently it’s enough for Harry too as his thrusts start to fluster and lose their established rhythm. He still goes at it with the same potency, not letting Niall’s cock go, and with it Niall feels himself getting hard again. There’s one, two, three sloppy thrusts before Harry is practically screaming fuck into Niall’s shoulder blades, biting down on them hard as he comes. Niall can’t believe the sensation. The feeling of Harry’s come pouring into him, something he’d once thought was really gross in porn but now realises how terribly, terribly wrong he was.

Harry’s trembling body pulls out of Niall slowly and at the same time he slides his hand off Niall’s dick. It takes all of Niall’s strength to roll over, to see how fucked out Harry looks. It’s really something, looking at Harry’s chest rising and falling so quickly, the way his hair is sticking to the sides of his face. It’s incredibly satisfying knowing Niall did this to him. Harry, of course being Harry, goes a step farther and wiggles his fingers with Niall’s come on it before he dutifully licks his tongue down to clean it up. Niall’s heart skips a couple of beats.

“Mmm,” Harry hums as if it’s the best pastry he’s had. “Incredible.” Niall’s not sure which he means, the taste of come on his tongue or the sex in general.

“Y-Yeah…” Niall manages out between staring at Harry and trying to catch his breath.

— — — — 

The next day at an interview someone asks Niall who he last had sex with. 

He just laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> This is like, the second time I've ever written actual sex. It's probably shows. Also, any errors are my own cause I'm too embarrassed to read through it again lmao. Feel free to point them out.


End file.
